


Bittersweet

by Cowoline



Series: Sweet aromas [4]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Heavy Angst, Murder, Physical Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowoline/pseuds/Cowoline
Summary: "My past lives in my shadow and haunts me with every step. I look into my future and I fear that I might add more demons to feed of guilt and regret."Zalia PoV.Read the tags carefully. There is no major character death.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Sweet aromas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975534
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read this if you're triggered by abuse. This might be a difficult read and was as much practice for me to dive into more painful subjects with my writing, as a way to develop my character.
> 
> Please leave comments and suggestions for something more fluffy if you like :)

I wake gasping for breath as Scratch whimpers from me accidentally kicking him in my sleep. His wet nose is instantly pressed against my face. 

“Friend, are you alright?” His brown eyes stare up into mine and I stroke his head.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a dream. Go back to sleep.” I kiss him on top of his head and he turns his head with a wine, but lays down as I exit the tent. Lae’zel and Wyll are sleeping each on their own bedroll, while Gale is keeping watch. Shadowheart is probably in her tent, while Astarion is either meditating or deep in the forest hunting.

Gale gives me a concerned look, but I just smile and urge him to stay quiet. He does not look convinced, but nods as he puts more wood on the fire. I walk to the water, where moonlight barely manages to make its way through the heavy clouds. If not for my darkvision I would barely be able to see anything.

The water beckons my to come closer, the crashing of the waves sounding like a harpy’s charm. It preys on my tired heart that whispers of fatigue - tired of surviving instead of living. Two little faces appear in my mind and I brush the thought away. I’m not free to make such a choice.

“I thought you’d still be asleep.”

I hear Astarion’s voice behind me, but I don’t turn. I look into the dark waters, the voice from my dreams echoing in my mind distancing me from reality. His reflection appears in the waters behind mine as his arms snake around me.

“Another nightmare?”

I close my eyes and break away from his embrace as I take a few steps into the running water. He stands still, patient, curious, but not offended.

“Yes,” I murmur.

“Odd, I haven’t had any tadpole dreams of late or is it Raphael that keeps calling?”

I don’t need to turn or look into the water to know the devious, careless smile on his lips. The mask distancing him from any of his true emotions.

“I dreamt of my husband.” My voice is detached, calm.

“Your husband?” I look into the water and I see the mask crack with confusion and perhaps even a little hurt. “I see.”

His voice sounds as detached as mine.

“He’s dead.”

“Oh…” For a moment I think I hear relief, when his voice returns to it’s careless charm. “Well, I’m sorry.”

He isn’t.

“I killed him in his sleep more than a year ago.” My voice trembles and I close my eyes as shame overtakes me. I hold back my tears. My grief. My… disgust.

“You killed him?” Astarion sounds positively amused - which shouldn’t surprise me. “My… I never thought you had it in you. Do tell, darling.”

The irony is that it’s the next part I fear to tell him - not the deed, but the emotions.

“I married him seven years ago, because…” Anger penetrates my voice. “Because I was a stupid little girl, who was obsessed with seeing the best in people. I thought that if I was just supportive and helped him see opportunities in life, he could embrace the potential I deluded myself to see.” I turn to look at Astarion, who looks at me, showing nothing. No amusement, no pity. Just patience.

I take a breath as every muscle in my body tenses with anger, shame and hate. “He was a parasite. I had to do  _ everything _ . I supported us, I provided a home, I treated his illness. And all he did was complain about everything. Always talking about  _ his  _ amusements and  _ his  _ happiness not giving a  _ damn  _ about anyone else.”

I turn from Astarion again. I never wanted to tell him the next part. Never wanted to share this.

“And he had a temper. He threw things, broke them. He would look at our children and tell them that I was being a ‘not nice’, ‘evil’, ‘a bitch’ or whatever came to his mind.”

“You have children?”

I glare back at Astarion with all the fury I can contain. The look he gives me isn’t frightened, but it does have some small trace of regret.

“Right, not important. Please, continue.” He makes a gesture with his hand as if my story was just that - fiction.

I sigh, leaning my head back fighting against the tears. “Once I had to stop him from losing his temper with our son. I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and he tried to choke me. He pressed me up against the door and didn’t stop until I faked pain. Then he stepped back and was--” I start to sneer with sarcasm. “So worried that I was hurt. Then started to tell me how it was  _ my fault _ that he acted that way.”

Astarion scoffs, but says nothing.

I look directly into his red eyes, my own brimming with tears of rage. “I tried to get him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He threatened to take the children, though he had no way of supporting them. He would rather have them starving in the streets than let me ‘have my way’. Said he was going to burn down the house and tell people I had gone insane. And there was  _ no doubt _ in my mind he was unstable enough to do it - or kill the children in revenge. So, one night I put a toxin in his tea, and he died in his sleep. Before he was dead I scratched his arm with poisonous thorns I had used for the toxin. I bandaged it to make it look like it had been an accident and that I had attempted to treat it.”

I remember how peaceful he looked. And the crushing pang of regret as the true extent of my actions became clear to me. It was like waking from a haze. The more relief I felt from the fact that I would never again have to suffer his wrath the stronger that sickening feeling in my gut became. Even when I was absorbed of guilt, when no one even questioned it had been an accident.

Astarion looks like he has discovered a delicious secret. “That’s how you knew what Nettie was about to do to you.”

“Not my point!” The tears finally spill from my eyes and I feel the guilt of it all consuming me. I walk on to shore away from Astarion on my soaked trousers making each step heavy. “I  _ murdered  _ my husband.”

I bury my face in my hands fighting the urge to sob. I have no right after what I did. The monster I am has no right to feel guilt or right to make excuses. And am I making the same mistake again? Isn’t Astarion just as selfish and self absorbed? 

I feel Astarion's hands on my shoulders as he steps in front of me.

“Look at me.” His voice is soft, gentle even, as he guides my chin with a single finger. “You did what you had to. Don’t be ashamed that you did it well.”

“I killed a man!”

“And you have killed a lot more since. He was just the first despot, and perhaps even the most deserving one. It’s not worse because it was personal.”

It’s callous, cold, but somewhere in my mind his words make sense. His blatant acceptance of it is a relief, but it’s worrying to me that I find it comforting. I don’t want to be a murderer and a monster - I only kill as a last resort, and only to defend myself or others. It is in the heat of combat - not detached and calculated. I don’t want to be relieved of my guilt, my shame or my responsibility, but the way Astarion looks at me and accepts it does exactly that. His calm and words shouldn’t give me justification for it, and yet it does.

I give a pained chuckle. “Not afraid I’ll kill you in your sleep?”

He laughs. “Oh, my dear, I would like to see you try.” His amusement turns to something tender as I feel his cool palm rest against my cheek. “Besides, not only do I trust you, but I won’t hurt you.”

He flashes a flirtatious grin and lowers his voice to something more seductive. “Unless you want me to of course.”

I lightly smack his chest with a huff before embracing his waist. “You’re not right.”

“That doesn’t surprise you, surely.” His voice is warm and amused.

I lean into his chest and feel his arms around me. Yes, he can be selfish and even cruel, but not to me. To me he is protective and even caring in his own way. I’m not sure that I deserve it.

His voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Why haven’t you mentioned any of this before?”

I pull away looking to the ground. “With everything you have suffered with Cazador for the past two hundred years it seemed… childish to be affected like this.”

Our eyes meet and an unspoken understanding passes between us. We both avoid talking of the past that haunts us. We both hide the misery and torment still chasing our shadows. I will never claim that I can ever fully relate to his pain, but I see his suffering and recognize my own. I see his determination and I know that I can find the strength to go on as well.

He sighs and rolls his shoulders trying to suppress the emotions brought to the surface - shaking it off like a soaked cloak.

“You look tired. You should try and get some more rest.”

I shake my head. “I’ll just continue dreaming.”

“Then you’ll wake up and see my handsome face, knowing the bastard is long gone and will never harm you again.” His smirk turns into a deadly sneer as he places a hand on my back to guide me back to camp.

We are almost there, when he speaks again.

“Your children, are they safe?” The question is spoken as an afterthought.

“Yes, they are with my brother. I had a bird send a missive back as soon as we got to the druids.”

He neither says or does anything that reveals if he feels one way about it or another until he stops and cups my jaw with both hands. He smiles before giving me a deep kiss. I melt into him and my bitter shame and regret begins to transform into something… sweet.


End file.
